


The Blessings of Harvest

by QSweetpea



Series: Golden Prairie, Happy Years [1]
Category: Little House on the Prairie - Laura Ingalls Wilder
Genre: F/M, It may not have happened but it's all true, Pioneer Girl, romance 1885 style
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-01-05 13:46:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12191100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QSweetpea/pseuds/QSweetpea
Summary: "He wanted to call his soul his own, not beholden to anyone but his Maker. The way he saw things, a farmer was the only man who could have that. This prairie was his home, now. He was making it so, one furrow at a time."This train roughly follows Almanzo through Little Town on the Prairie onward, with a backward stop or two in The Long Winter, ending on the newlywed's front steps in The First Four Years. It was inspired by the LH books, Pioneer Girl (the recently released really-truly-actually biographical Laura Ingalls Wilder publication) and my own pure brain, which first fell head over heels for Almanzo when I was wee. Also inspired by, and named for, Aaron Copland's song The Promise of Living, from "The Tender Land" - here is a lovely performance on YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDAbNaF6EYQAs Laura said about her Little House books, "It may not have happend, but it was all true."





	1. Chapter 1

Royal jumped three pieces in a move Almanzo didn't see coming and wheedled, “There will be things to do, now they're building the new church. There's talk about socials and speakers, and music programs. Bost, Power, Gardener, Ingalls - most of the homesteaders are moving to town for the winter.”

“I don't want to be stuck in town for months on end. Too many people.” Silence, but for clicking checkers and occasional bootfalls on the walkway outside. Oh, for...how did he miss that move? “What about 'Liza? I thought she was staying in town to keep house for the winter. I'm not bunking with you.” Their sister had taken a claim half a mile east of town that summer, and was teaching school this term. He wasn't sure she was having much success of either, though.

Royal looked up from the game with raised eyebrows. “She's going back to Minnesota. I thought you knew.”

Almanzo shook his head. “No, I didn't. It figures, though.” He could have predicted this months ago. Eliza frequently flaunted her education in front of him and Royal, as if her books and dresses and fine airs were somehow better than a day of honest work. She also conveniently ignored the fact they had all went to the same academy in Malone. Royal may be keeping his shoes clean catering to the farmers who bought goods at his feed store, but at least the farmers could call the soil on their boots their own. In coming out to the Dakota territory Eliza Jane Wilder said she was proving she was as good as any man, with her own claim, independent and free, yet she didn't take any satisfaction in it. The only satisfaction she got from the soil was when she swept it out her back door.

Almanzo jumped one piece and lined up his next move, which Royal neatly blocked in his. Royal finally admitted, “I'd like your company. We both could do with some company. And, you make better flapjacks than I do.” That was the truth, Almanzo thought privately. If he wanted good eats this winter, he'd be doing most of the cooking. If he stayed out at his claim, he'd be doing _all_ of the cooking.

“You'll get stuck out there. I have room in the barn. I'll haul in extra feed for Prince and Lady, and I'll even pay for it. C'mon, Manny.”

“There's no way this winter will be as bad as last. My claim is weather-tight, and it's mine, Royal.”

“Maybe you'll meet a girl. King me.”

“I'm not looking for a girl,” Almanzo answered with a grimace. He topped Royal's piece with another and pulled a face. He was going to lose this game.

ooOOOoo

“Whoa. Stand.” Almanzo checked the horses in front of the school and waited for his sister, who would be last to leave behind the crowd of boys and girls. It was a brisk Friday afternoon, and now that threshing was over he had more time to cart Eliza around. She had asked for a ride out on her claim that week-end. 

The door flew open as pile of boys bolted from the school-house, jumped the bottom two stairs, and raced down the walk. They took a hard right toward the general store and, no doubt, the candy jars there. Little girls and boys filtered out, then following them at a more reasonable pace was a group of older girls, led by a pale blonde girl with eyes like a cow. He knew her name was Nellie Olsen because Eliza kept pointing her out. In a heartbeat, half a dozen pairs of doe’s eyes were trained on him.

The pale girl inclined her head at him and a trace of a smile crossed her face. She smiled at him like Roy smiled at pie. He touched his hat politely and nodded vaguely in her general direction as the girls crossed in front of him, tittering all the way. Almanzo purposely lifted his gaze and looked elsewhere.

It was all very uncomfortable. His best friend Cap was still planning on attending the school in the winter term, and he himself was only a few years older, yet Almanzo felt like an old man around most girls in town. If this was Roy's idea of “company,” he'd rather keep company with his horses out on his claim, blizzards and howling wind be darned.

Another girl slowed at the bottom of the stairs – they were everywhere, he huffed to himself – Laura, one of Ingalls' eldest daughters; he had given her a ride to the schoolhouse only last week. She seemed a sweet, pretty little thing. He patted his pocket – yes, her card was still there. Laura was leading a wisp of a little sister by the hand. Unlike the tittering crowd, she stopped abruptly at the bottom step and stared not at him but at his horses. Her hand reached hesitantly toward Lady's flank. She stopped herself and startled a bit as she looked up and noticed him grinning at her from the wagon seat, despite himself. Her eyes widened, and she smiled a bit. Recollecting herself, she dropped her gaze. The tiny girl looked up at her older sister and asked, “Laura? Is something wrong?” as Eliza's mincing stomps announced her approach. The smaller girl quickly hid behind the slats of her bonnet and took her sister's hand. Laura’s expression hardened, and she all but dragged her sister away. He idly watched them for a bit. She glanced back, whether at him or his team, he couldn't decide, as they headed toward her father's storefront.

Huh. Interesting.

Eliza locked the door behind her with a huff. She stared at the door and all but kicked it before she turned and stomped down the stairs to the wagon. He handed her in without comment. As they set out, she fidgeted in the seat next to him. Almanzo had heard that there were problems at the school – he once drove by and heard a burst of _laughter,_ even. He had been pretty sure she would make a pig's ear out of it, way back, before she even moved out here. So, he waited expectantly for the weekly tirade. After inhaling sharply, she all but exploded with a litany of insults and perceived injuries. At the mention of the name Ingalls, though, he started paying attention.

“You did what?” Almanzo exclaimed, his mouth hanging open in incredulity.

“I made them rock that desk. Laura did it alone, really, Carrie being so puny. She certainly did rock it – the bolts had come loose, and none of the students could hear themselves think over the thumping! So. I sent them home. I was...I didn't...” she sputtered, as her brother lost his fight with laughter.

“Well. I may have overreacted. Just a weensy bit.” Eliza scowled and started fussing with her books in her lap. “All the students look to Laura Ingalls. I know she's egging them on behind my back. Nellie Olsen, you remember her, has told me some things.” She looked puzzled for a moment before admitting, “Yet, Laura's at the top of her class.”

“Did she throw a blacking brush at you, too?”

Her anger deflated, and she sighed ruefully. “You know, she...she does remind me of you, a bit. You were sharp as a tack and so spirited it drove us all spare. Anyway, today, the school board came to call, and...well. The end of it is, I've lost the battle with this school. They don't respect me.”

“Oh 'Liza,” Almanzo sighed. “Did you given them your, 'Birds in their little nests' speech, too? Because it never worked on us, when Roy and I got into scrapes. ”

She stacked and sorted the books in her lap again, which meant _yes_ , and glanced at him. “I may have told Mr. Ingalls his daughter was an instigator. I blamed her for a lot of things.” 

“Eliza. You're the teacher. You can't possibly...”

She looked down at her shoes and sighed. “Really, it's not just her. They all hate me. I can't say I blame them. So few of them seem to want to learn. I suppose it doesn't really matter now.”

She stared out at the unending prairie as they drove east of town. Her small shanty emerged on the horizon.

“I hate teaching, Almanzo.”

“I know.”

Silence rolled over them for a moment.

“I've decided I'm renting out my claim and moving back to Minnesota, before snow makes the decision for me.”

“Royal told me this afternoon. I understand, 'Liza. I really do.”

“I miss our folks, our home.”

That was it, wasn't it? This wasn't her home. Eliza had never felt the satisfaction he felt turning over the land in the spring, sowing seed, then waiting and praying for rain and good weather, to reap a harvest ten times what she planted. Almanzo learned from their father to see potential in a fallow field. He knew the reward of working new soil, and knew what he wanted in a way 'Liza didn't. He wanted to call his soul his own, not beholden to anyone but his Maker. The way he saw things, a farmer was the only man who could have that. This prairie was his home, now. He was making it so, one furrow at a time.

He stopped the team at her door and asked quietly, “Shall I go by the schoolhouse tomorrow and tighten up that desk?”

“I would appreciate it, yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

Almanzo finished blanketing his team and joined the crowd as they made their way to the new Congregational Church meeting. It was good to have somewhere to meet again; Rev. Brown called this evening as a sort of celebration, to break in the raw, yellow boards and splintery pews. The room was already nearly full, but Almanzo spied Cap and Oscar Rhuel, who budged over and made room for him on a rough board bench facing the pews on the far right, near the front. 

Cap flashed a grin his direction and crossed his eyes. It wasn't...reverent. Almanzo's answering scowl earned him an eye roll and an elbow to the ribs. “Old man,” Cap hissed sideways at him. “You need to have some fun, Manny.” Oscar grinned and seemed to agree. Well that was just fine. Neither had his responsibilities or any...well. Old man? Ridiculous.

Almanzo crossed his arms and stared ahead. Ingalls and his family, who had filed into the pew in front of him as the meeting started, joined the congregational singing that was very nearly in tune, with an organ's help. Their pew helped, with three parts of four chiming in. Ingalls had four daughters, and no sons to help him work his land. He sat upright proudly, his hat in his lap, praising God for what he had. He understood his responsibilities full well.

Almanzo thought back to the unexpected visit during that hard winter, when Ingalls helped himself to a bucket of Almanzo's seed wheat without so much as a by-your-leave, and first opened his eyes to the fact that there were folks in town who could be starving. Without much in the way of extra supplies, and with his pride intact, Ingalls had sheltered five lives through those storms. He had stepped in front of an angry (and hungry) mob and diffused the situation when Loftis tried to make money off the wheat Almanzo and Cap had hauled in. Wherever Ingalls was involved, people became…reasonable. Almanzo respected him more than just about anyone in town. 

Reverend Brown's sermons were good for a laugh, at worst, sometimes gave him something to occupy his thoughts while doing chores, and occasionally kept him up nights, fearful for his immortal soul. The white-haired preacher walked slowly forward, placed his Bible on the pulpit, carefully leafed through until he found his starting spot, and then jumped right in. He was in rare, blustering form tonight. 

“Paul wrote to the Ephesians, ‘Nevertheless do ye also severally love each one his own wife even as himself; and let the wife see that she fear her husband.’ That was Ephesians five, thirty-three. This text is that basis for my lesson tonight – How To Be Happy, Though Married.”

Almanzo checked behind him for rivulets of sap on the new pine boards before he leaned back, resting his head and idly watched Laura Ingalls, who seemed to be transfixed by Reverend Brown's tobacco-stained whiskers, which billow as he spoke and waved his arms around. Her eyebrows lifted and knitted together as Reverend Brown occasionally mangled his sentences.

“The good wife should be like three things; which three things she should not be like. First, she should be like a snail, to keep within her own house; but she should not be like the snail, to carry all she has upon her back. Secondly, she should be like an echo, to speak when spoken to; but she should not be like an echo, always to have the last word! Thirdly, she should be like a town-clock, always to keep time and regularity; but she should not be like the town-clock, speaking so loud that all the town may hear her…” He stepped sideways, knocking against the pulpit, and his Bible slid to the edge. He caught it and spent some time finding his spot again. 

In the moment of frantic page-flipping, Almanzo saw Ingalls glance at his wife with a slightly saucy grin, unnoticed by his girls, and his eyes crinkled with mischief as he did so. Mrs. Ingalls clamped her lips together, as though she would laugh otherwise. She shook her head at him, ever so slightly, and focused on Reverend Brown, as he started up again.

“Men, do not seek to understand your wife. For as Solomon, in all his learning, said in Proverbs thirty, ‘There are three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid.’ If he, in all his wisdom and experience, didn’t understand these fair ones, how can we be expected to?”

Cap nudged him again, hard, with his elbow, and waggled his eyebrows at him. Almanzo gave him a quelling look and sat up straighter, secretly stretching his back a bit. He was tired at the end of the day. Getting his new tree claim ready for winter was taking a lot of his time, and he hadn’t time to complicate things with a ... a sweetheart. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

Reverend Brown reached some sort of high point, spraying his Bible, the rough pulpit, and a few people in the first row with slightly tobacco-stained spittle. “A good wife is heaven’s last, best gift to a man; his angel of mercy…his gem of many virtues, his casket of jewels; her voice his sweetest music; her smiles his brightest day; her kiss the guardian of his innocence; her arms the pale of his safety…her prayers the ablest advocates of heaven’s blessing on his head!”

Ingalls glanced at his wife again, with a completely different expression. He had seen that look on his father’s face a time or two and felt odd inside, witnessing that private thing. 

The Reverend pointed at a few young men in the room and intoned, “It takes a good deal of nerve for a man to ask a woman to marry him, but when we see how many men have married women who in some respects at least are their betters, we must say that nerve is not such a scarce commodity as might be supposed. There are not so many men who really make up their minds to marry a certain woman who do not succeed if they keep at it long enough in the attempt.”

Laura Ingalls briefly smiled then, a secret smile she hid about as well as her mother. She had her father’s eyes. There was a twinkle to them, just then, and Almanzo suddenly wanted to see that again. She glanced his direction, and, realizing he was staring at her, he hurriedly flicked his eyes back to the front of the room, where Reverend Brown was emphasizing his point with animated jabs in the air.

Fine. Almanzo was almost ready to admit there were maybe some things a game of checkers at the dry goods store couldn't satisfy. 

Reverend Brown showed he was concluding by slamming his Bible shut, and intoned, “If Jesus is your Counselor and Guide, your Friend, and your Master, you will always be happy, though married; yea, because you are married, and have life’s highest relationship sanctified by his divine blessing! Let us stand and sing!”

They all rose for the closing hymn, which was, oddly, “Pull for the Shore.” Laura was either strangely moved or losing a battle with laughter – Almanzo caught her wiping a few tears away with her handkerchief. As the meeting finally ended and everyone rose to shuffle out, she turned to speak briefly to a girl behind her, whose answering giggle sets his teeth on edge. He could see Laura’s face now, and enjoyed admiring her pink cheeks (laughter, then) and those twinkling eyes again. She seemed…a nice young lady.

Oscar Rhuel leaned over Cap and interrupted his thoughts. Nodding toward the giggling nightmare, he said, “Here's some fun for you. I dare you to ask her if you may see her home.”

Huh. He could do that.

Knowing full well Oscar had meant Mae Burd, with her distracting curls and that voice that could strip paint, Almanzo grinned at Cap. He quickly stepped over to the line of suitors and beaus (“boys,” he thought of them, even though a few were older than he) and gently touched Laura's shoulder as she passed, tugging on her wraps and trying to keep up with the rest of her family. She looked startled, flushed and wide-eyed, but didn't object, and her silence was the closest thing to a 'yes' he would hear that evening. The crowd pressed, and with a protective arm behind that did not quite touch her back, he led her outside into the chill air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to a 1935 edition of the book "What God Hath Joined Together" by W.C. Boone, with a page ripped out in the chapter on how to find a husband. I've been waffling on doing yet another edit and just decided to fling this to the internets instead. Enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

He turned from the Ingalls' door with a strange lightness, and couldn't help grinning as he crossed the street and stepped up to the walkway on the opposite side. She wasn't too talkative, sure, but she was glad to be in his company, he could tell. It was nice to not have someone _talk_ at him all the time, to just walk alongside. He could get used to that. Cap appeared out of nowhere and matched his stride with that grin of his that seemed to make all the girls sweet on him. "Why are you so happy, Manny? Something nice happen, hmm?" There was something in his tone that rubbed him wrong. 

"Leave it, Cap."

"I know her better than you do. Wanna know anything?"

Almanzo stopped mid-stride. There went that good mood. He faced Cap and asked pointedly, "Like what? Do you normally talk about young ladies you know like this, out on the street? It's not decent, Cap."

"No, that's not it at all. I'm just...I'm glad I was wrong. Oscar said so, but I didn't believe him."

"Wrong about what, exactly?"

"That you'd have the guts to go after Laura Ingalls. I knew that when you've decided on something, or someone, not much can stop you, though. So, you've set your cap on Laura, have you?"

"Don't you have school in the morning, boy?"

Undeterred, Cap continued, "You should see how she stares when you drive by, Manny. I gave up on trying to turn her head months ago. She's different, somehow. Don't mess this up."

Almanzo sighed and waved Cap off. This was ridiculous. The younger man backed up, hands shoved in his pockets. "God hates a coward, Almanzo." He turned and sauntered away, whistling.

ooOOOoo

Almanzo opened the door to see Royal leaning back in his chair, feet crossed on the table, and fixing his brother with a grin that was not exactly decent. 

"What are you doing, Manny?" he drawled, and the grin widened. 

Almanzo sighed. Everyone had an opinion. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Roy." He shrugged out of his coat and hung his cap on the peg next to the door. "And even if I did...I don't have to tell you anything."

Royal stared at him for a full ten seconds. "She's awful young, Manny." He was still grinning.

Almanzo's mind flashed to what he overheard at the Ingalls' door, as Laura shut it slowly, looking at him all the while through the closing gap, with a soft smile on her face and those twinkling eyes again. ( _"But Charles, she's only fifteen!"_ )

"Serious, though, she's not one of those girls you can -"

"Royal, I saw her home. _Once._ That's it, so far. I wouldn't dream of - "

"I know, so I'm gonna stop talking now. She's sweet, and pretty enough. She's also Ingalls' daughter. Take care. Don't be an idiot."

"I'm _not_. I'm not some schoolboy pulling braids at recess. I'm also not - Royal, what do you take me for?" Royal's eyebrows lifted pointedly. Feeling irritated and off kilter, somehow, Almanzo looked around the sitting room, which was small and stuffy all of a sudden. "I'm gonna go tend to the horses." He grabbed his coat and cap from the peg again and took off for the stable.He did his chores rather absently, until Lady's snuffling nuzzle pulled him out of his thoughts. 

"Aw, Lady, stop it, " he exclaimed, and wiped the smear of horse spittle off his ear. "I don't have any treats for you tonight. You'll have to do with oats." He stroked the velvet of her nose and then finished up in the stalls, casting an admiring eye on his team. They were well-matched Morgans, compact, and able to drive a buggy smoothly or pull a plow without balking. They were possibly the best team in the state, earning appreciative glances left and right. Remembering how Laura Ingalls had stopped to gawk at them made him grin anew.

Snow was coming. He could smell it in the air. Back in Minnesota, Father would have sent him out to hitch up and plow the fields one last time before winter, integrating that "poor man's fertilizer" into the soil. He hadn't driven the horses hitched to anything for a bit now, and it seemed that he was going to be voluntarily stuck in town for the winter. What he needed was a sleigh. No...something smaller, light, able to be pulled effortlessly and fly along without much drag. 

That's it. He was going to build a cutter. 

ooOOOoo

Royal was still smirking the next morning. "Really, Royal? Drop it, would you?" Almanzo rolled his eyes as he grabbed the breakfast dishes off the table and dealt with them, then escaped to see if there was any news at the dry goods store. Charles Ingalls was sitting near the door, almost like he was waiting for him. "G'morning, Mr. Ingalls. How are -"

"Fine, fine. Sit down, Wilder. We should talk."

Almanzo sat. 

Ingalls fixed him with a piercing, blue-eyed stare. After a moment, his features dissolved into a smile. Almost apologetically, he admitted, "I've four daughters, Wilder, but this is a new territory for me."

"I understand, sir." He didn't, not really. Nope. Not at all.

"Well now, it's my daughter Laura I wanted to talk to you about." 

Oh. Almanzo sat up. "Yes, sir. She...she likes my horses. I enjoy talking with her..." he stammered.

"It's all right, son," he said quickly, with a wave of his hand. "I don't object to your, uh, attentions. I'm not here to warn you off, or threaten you, or any such nonsense." He looked down at his hands, clasped in front of him. "Laura is worth taking time to get know, Wilder. Poor girl, she's a lot like me." Here he smiled, and then trained that piercing gaze on Almanzo again. "You know she's young, though...take your time, would you? There's time."

Almanzo paused and thought about it. It was simple, really. The time was coming, fairly soon, when he just wasn't going to be enough. He wouldn't be able to do this alone. He had no idea if Ingalls' daughter was that person to help, but it was reasonable to hope she could be. Arguably, it was too early in this season to know how things would work out. Settlers with staying power, like he hoped to be, were by nature either hopeful realists or reasonably informed optimists. They prepared the soil, put in the effort, and prayed. So Almanzo said a small prayer, just then. Meeting Ingalls' eye, he then said, "I'm a farmer, Mr. Ingalls. We know all about patience, and waiting for what's worth the time." 

Ingalls nodded toward the ceiling, then stood up. It seemed the discussion was over, and he had passed muster. Glancing at Almanzo as he put on his coat and hat, Ingalls said, "That's fine, then. You should come to the school exhibition next week, Almanzo. Laura's presenting a special piece."

"I'll do that, sir. I'm looking forward to it. Thank you."

The door to the dry goods store thwacked into place as he left, and Almanzo took a deep breath. 

He looked up to spy Royal, who had followed him in and was now fixing him with that ridiculous grin again, leaning back in a chair. He kinda wanted to smack him. As fratricide was frowned upon in these parts, and the man who amounted to the local law enforcement was warming himself across the room at the stove, Almanzo instead strolled by, casual as you please, and deftly kicked the chair out from under his brother (to the amusement of the general assembly), saluted him with a tap to his cap brim, and exited before Royal, cursing under his breath, could regain his feet.


	4. Chapter 4

Laura completed her history speech and passed the pointer on as the schoolhouse erupted into loud applause. Almanzo grinned, clapping enthusiastically with what seemed to be most of the town in the audience. She was obviously quite bright, and presented with confidence and accuracy, as far as he could remember things. The differences between his sister Liza Jane and Laura Ingalls were apparent in so many ways, but in their respect for learning they were much alike. He wondered if, in another setting and despite their age difference, they could have been friends. 

At the end of the presentations and recitations, after the last class was dismissed and people were milling about, Almanzo caught Laura's eye across the crowd and inclined his head toward her with a raised brow. She smiled and started gathering her wraps. They made their way from opposite ends of the schoolroom and met near the doors. Without him asking, she turned a bit so he could help her with her coat, then she smiled at him again over her shoulder. "Thank you, Mr. Wilder." 

Out of nowhere, Cap Garland nudged him hard with an elbow, then backed away with that grin of his, waggling his eyebrows. Almanzo rolled his eyes at Cap but couldn’t help smiling a bit. There was no use denying anything, and it’s not like he was moony over Laura – he was seeing her home, like a gentleman. 

Almanzo guided Laura out through the crowd, and they had walked quietly almost the length of a block before he realized - darn you, Cap! - some social niceties hadn’t been observed. 

“I guess I should have asked you if I may see you home.”

“Well, you already are!” 

He waited a moment, then asked, “May I see you home?”

Laura laughed. He liked making her laugh. 

She commented, “At least there’s no snow,” and carried conversation nicely for a time. He startled himself when he heard himself state abruptly, “I am building a cutter.” Almanzo describe the varnishing and building of the thing, and then with some pride and maybe a little hope, asked, “Do you like riding in cutters?”

“I’ve never been in one…but I’m sure I would like to.”

“Well, when it’s finished, I’ll come by to give you a ride in it.” He felt awfully bold, saying it like that. He’d never started a courtship before, but uncertainly supposed this was what it was like – dancing between formal and forward. 

They were at her door, and as she pulled the latch she said, “Thank you, Mr. Wilder. Good night.” Once again, she smiled at him with those twinkling eyes through the gap of the closing door, and he held her gaze until the door closed fully. 

He turned to see Mr. Boast and another homesteader making their way to the Ingalls’ door. Almanzo tapped his cap and said, “Hello Boast, how are you?”

“Hello, Wilder. Fine, fine. At least there’s no snow.” 

Almanzo nodded in the direction of the men, then crossed the road to walk back to his horses, where he had left them blanketed out of the wind by the schoolhouse.

ooOOOoo

Cap had come by to help Almanzo with the last of the hitch fastenings, and to be first to test the cutter on the fresh snow that had fallen that week. The cutter was everything Almanzo had planned – light, fast, snug, well-built and almost weightless for the horses to pull. Their feet all but danced as they circled town and made their way back to the Wilders’ store-front and stable. 

Cap climbed out and began helping with the team. “It’s a fine cutter, Manny. You never do things halfway. It’s too bad Laura won’t be home to ride in it for a while.”

Almanzo forgot to be affronted at Cap’s presuming things and asked abruptly, “What are you talking about, Cap?” Almanzo had planned to go invite her to join the sledding party the next Saturday. 

“She was hired to teach Bouchie’s school for two months – it’s all their school board could afford. We weren’t surprised they picked her, of course, but it was real sudden. Bouchie took her to board at his family’s claim last Sunday afternoon, and it’s twelve miles out, so she may not be back for a while. Hey, where are you going?”

Almanzo was out the stable door and halfway to the dry goods store before Cap caught up. Ingalls was standing in the window like he was waiting for him.

ooOOOoo

Almanzo checked the horses near the door of the shanty, keeping the lines under control as he handed Laura out to drop off her lunch pail and collect her things. Prince and Lady stamped and made their new bells dance merrily. Laura stepped around a slushy puddle from multiple basins of wash water thrown out the door and slipped inside. As she opened the door just enough to allow passage, a wave of humid, stale, slightly smoky air smacked him. A small child wailed, and an angry voice stopped abruptly as the door closed. He couldn't help grimacing.

He glanced to the window and was startled to see a woman with a sullen, hard expression staring back at him. He touched the brim of his cap and nodded - no need to be impolite - and was met with a deepening scowl. Laura bolted out of the shanty door, clutching her satchel. A bedraggled homesteader - Bouchie, he supposed - popped his head out the door and gave him a half-hearted wave before shutting the door again. Almanzo busied himself securing Laura's things before helping her tuck in the flannel-lined buffalo wraps. He glanced up toward the window while climbing in himself and was startled to see the full force of the woman's outright disgust and hatred turned toward Laura. The woman turned away abruptly, and the curtains fell back into place.

Almanzo started the horses on their jingling way back to De Smet. The cutter was snug. With all the robes and wraps, there was barely enough room for Almanzo and Laura to sit, right up against each other. Almanzo knew he was hardly tall but was a solidly strong man. In contrast, Laura seemed so tiny. Even through her veil, he could see there were dark circles under her eyes. The wind did not flush her cheeks; she looked paler than ever. He made up his mind, then and there - Laura Ingalls was not staying at the Bouchie’s claim over week-ends, not if he had anything to say about it. It occurred to him that he didn't actually have much to say about it. Not yet. Eventually, he would need to talk to Ingalls again, and he would need to know the mind of the young woman sitting next to him. There was time. 

ooOOOoo

"Mr. Ingalls, I need to tell you about what I saw at the Bouchies’ claim. I don't think there's any danger, exactly. I just got an uneasy feeling there, and, well, I didn't like it." He wouldn't leave a dog he liked there, to be honest. That woman troubled him.

Ingalls' eyebrows shot up and he asked, "Give me a 'for instance.'" Almanzo haltingly described what he saw and Mrs. Brewster's behavior while he waited for Laura outside the door. Ingalls was quiet for a time.

"Wintering in a claim shanty can be lonely and difficult, especially for the women-folk. Their situation isn't the best. Adding a boarder can't help matters any. Thank you, son. I'll keep an eye on my girl while she's home. She rarely hides what's bothering her; she'll let us know if there's a problem she can't handle." His brow was knit together a bit, though, and Almanzo wasn't sure it was the right thing to do, telling him.

Now then, to the point. "I'd like to make sure your daughter gets home and back to Brewster's, over week-ends, if that's all right with you. I mean, I would like to drive her, if you're agreeable. If that's all right."

"Well now, my team isn't as spry as they used to be, but I'm sure we can manage a trip or two." Ingalls' eyes were crinkled in the corners.

It was like being called to his father after some misdeed or other. The truth would come out, he couldn't help it. _I think your daughter is sweet and whip-smart and lovely and I would gladly freeze my nose and ears weekly for the honor of an hour or two in her company_ \- Almanzo winced involuntarily, and started talking about everything but Laura.

"Well, sir, you have more responsibilities here than I have, for one thing. Also, I'd actually appreciate being able to escape my brother for a time." Here Ingalls chuckled, and Almanzo continued quickly, "There's not much going on 'round town, now that the socials and things are over. It's no bother, really. And it's true, your team isn't as young as it used to be. Best to, uh, save their energy for spring planting, isn't it?"

Ignoring Almanzo's obvious unease and nodding sagely, Ingalls answered, "Well now, that's true. My team can't fly along like you can with those Morgans of yours. That new cutter is a handsome little thing. Laura enjoyed her ride home with you. She didn't say a word, but I could tell, by how her eyes were shining when she got home."

Almanzo had run out of things to say, so he nodded, then waited. Mercifully, Ingalls put him out of his misery without making him squirm, much. “I’m agreeable to it, Almanzo, as long as Laura is happy with the notion. She should be ready to go back mid-afternoon, Sunday.” He stood and put on his hat. “Will we see you at church?”

“Oh – yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”


End file.
